


Gala Night

by sunaddicted



Series: Superbat October Drabbles [24]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Charity Gala, Class Differences, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Sweet, Tenderness, Worry, elitism, gala night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: "What if I use the wrong fork at dinner?""You won't""But what if I do?"Bruce arched an eyebrow "Do you seriously think that none of the kids ever used the wrong fork?" [...]





	Gala Night

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: a stately manor

_Gala Night_

Clark's hand had been involved in a maddening dance for at least an hour now: from the collar of his shirt to the knot of his tie to the lapels of his jacket and to the cufflinks, where they fussed for a handful of seconds before starting again; Bruce had finally gotten thoroughly tired with it and he reached out to take those fingers in mid-motion - just hovering over the edge of his lapels - so that he could stop them from going on and he squeezed them soothingly "If you don't stop, you're going to crease the suit" Bruce told him in a gentle voice, bringing those hands close to kiss their back "You look wonderful, you don't need to fret"

Clark sighed and flexed his fingers in Bruce's grip "I'm not used to being on this side of a fancy charity gala" he was a reporter - he got to wear shabby suits, mingle just enough to get a couple of quotes for his article and then he could scamper home while the rich and famous threw around more money than he had ever seen together in his life, as carelessly as he would throw a sandwich wrapping paper in the waste bin.

But they had recently made their relationship public and Bruce wanted him to be by his side when he hosted his next gala; his lover asked for things so rarely that Clark had looked straight in those blue eyes, full of hope and love and no pressure, and he hadn't been unable to give a negative answer.

So there he was - dressed like a penguin and sweating as if a pack of high society vultures was the worst thing he had ever faced.

It kinda was, as Clark Kent at least.

"You're clever and good at words - two appreciated qualities in this crowd" Bruce reminded him, endeared by the vulnerability he so rarely saw in the other man and, even if Clark clearly didn't need his protection, it made Bruce want to hold him close and hide him from all the malignant voices he knew would whisper in his lover's ears - because Clark wasn't rich nor famous and the elite hated it when one of the club married outside of the circle.

The fact that they weren't actually married yet - they weren't even engaged: they were just together and happy - would only make those voices worse, out of some twisted belief that they would be able to drive the opportunist peasant away.

Just the thought made Bruce wonder about why he even bothered getting his ribs broken during patrol for people so shallow.

"I'm just..." Clark flexed his fingers again and tried to draw them out of Bruce's grip, itching to make sure for the nth time that his tie was knotted properly and that the waistcoat was sitting straight on his torso; he wasn't used to wearing clothes tailored to hug his figure and while they did look nice, Clark felt like he was suffocating in the expensive wool and silk blend that Bruce's tailor had put him in "I'm just nervous, I don't want to embarrass you"

Bruce shook his head and drew Clark closer, standing a little on his tiptoes - just enough to overcome the small height difference between them - to kiss him "You could never embarrass me, Clark"

"What if I use the wrong fork at dinner?"

"You won't"

"But what if I do?"

Bruce arched an eyebrow "Do you seriously think that none of the kids ever used the wrong fork?" He pointed out "Jason still deliberately misuses the cutlery to annoy the hell out of them - I think he's still getting revenge for all the times his cheeks got pinched as a kid"

Despite the heavy weight of anxiety on his chest, the image made Clark chuckle "Well, better that than him shooting on your guests?"

"Don't let him hear you or he'll take it as a suggestion"

In that moment, Clark wouldn't have minded it if someone started shooting on the crowd - at least he would have an excuse to suit up and avoid mingling with those people. Though, as soon as he realised he had wished actual harm on them just to get out of the party, Clark winced and felt a thick wave of guilt bloom in his chest "I'm sorry, I'm behaving childishly"

"Childish is throwing a tantrum about having to wear a tie and running around the manor naked just half an hour before the arrival of the guests"

Clark smiled "Let me guess - Dick?"

"The one and only Boy Wonder"

"I think you mean the Boy Hostage"

Bruce laughed: back then it hadn't been fun at all, how easily Dick had seemed to fall in villainous hands as an hostage but now he was able to joke about it - just like the whole superhero community did "He's never going to live that down"

"No, he's not" Clark sighed and forced his shoulders to lose the tension "We need to go, don't we?"

"I'm afraid so: being late isn't fashionable when you're hosting, especially if you're doing it in your own home" Bruce let go of Clark hands but he took his arm, giving the illusion that the other man was leading him when in reality it was Bruce who was steering them; he put one hand on the handle of the door, thumb absentmindedly swiping over the crystal "Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be" Clark nodded and he let himself be whisked down grand staircase that had never looked so intimidating in the course of the years he had spent at the manor - as a guest, as a friend, as family.

Officially now.  


End file.
